Worlds Collide
by Easywitheyesclosed
Summary: AU: This is a compilation of chapters about the relationship Inspector Frederick Abberline and Constable Ichabod Crane Sleepy Hollow , each chapter holds a different theme, scenario and stage of life for the two incredible men. Warning: Gay Crossover.
1. Introduction

Introduction by Author

Hello everyone! Nope, I haven't died or overdosed or gone crazy by all my blocks! I'm back, and I apologize for the absence. I know I always say that I have that great feeling about a certain piece of work and that I'll try harder to keep on top of things, but really…I will. Life is busy, life is cruel and unkind, and on those rare times when it isn't, I will be doing my best to update.

Now this is my new project: A compilation of chapters dedicated to Constable Ichabod Crane of Sleepy Hollow and Inspector Frederick Abberline of From Hell, as a _pairing._ Yes, you've read that right. My good friend Tichy, otherwise known here as serenademysoul, recently wrote me a fantastic FrederickXIchabod fanfic series that just ended (GO CHECK IT OUT RIGHT NOW!) and so, as I did inspire her to write it, I decided damnit it's about time I write my own FredXIch, since I'm whining and bitching about not finding any around.

I hope you will all be open to my further writings and will enjoy them as well 3 Thank you all. This concludes the introduction to the collection ;)

-Randi


	2. Smokin' In The Boys Room

**Yeeeees this was totally inspired by Motley Crue, lol. I couldn't resist. Setting is a prestigious high school in London. Time frame is the late 1980s. Fred is eighteen, Ichabod sixteen. Ichabod is in some advanced classes, therefore sharing a few classes with him, including Algebra. Enjoy my first chapter! :D**

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**Frederick ran as fast as his legs could carry him, with one destination in mind – the nearest washroom. His breathing was labored by the time he had reached the fourth floor washroom all the way from the first floor. The only reason he had bothered to go so far was because it was the least popular boy's washroom in the school – mirror had a small crack recently inflicted by one of the more rebellious students (now facing suspension), half the toilets out of order and the high window stuck open, causing the small room to be quite drafty. You'd think one of the most prestigious high schools in London would have all their washrooms in tip-top shape; even the least desired and visited one.

Just as he suspected, he was greeted with silence as he burst through the door. The washroom was totally deserted. Those awful visions had been plaguing him again, and he had found himself drifting off deeply into a particularly disturbing one in the middle of Algebra. The teen rushed to the sink, passing the urinals and splashing his face with ice-cold water to ensure he had fully resurfaced from his disgustingly entrancing vision. He furrowed his brows at the discomforting temperature, rubbing the water out of his eyes before straightening up once more.

He hastily pulled out one of his hand-rolled cigarettes and popped it in his mouth. A match was struck to lit the cigarette before he inhaled deeply on it, calming down instantly. Frederick didn't care that the school had a strict rule against smoking; he often came here for breaks like this. His rich-brown bangs dripped onto the black marble-tiled floor as he paced slowly, regaining his composure and "waiting it out" as he smoked.

Suddenly, the boy thought he heard the sound of fast footsteps heading close. He immediately retreated into the last stall against the wall, near the high window and quickly shut the door, careful not to create to loud a sound, then locking it. Just as the person was entering, Frederick climbed quietly onto the seat, cigarette firmly gripped between fingers.

"…Abberline? Abberline, are you here?" called a soft-spoken, formal-sounding voice. Frederick's lips parted in a slight gape, his eyes widening. _Shit. _

The footsteps were light and fleeting on the marble, drawing closer to his stall. Followed by that was a utter silence, and Frederick swore he could perfectly hear him breathing, which was becoming quicker and deeper.

The newcomer could clearly smell and see the smoke, and instantly knew something wasn't right. He felt a sense of panic, since Frederick wasn't answering him and where there's smoke…

"Oh god, is there a _fire_ in your stall?!" he exclaimed, dark eyes widening. Frederick rolled his eyes and exhaled a deep sigh. _Damn, what a right prat…_

"No, _Crane._ There's no fire," he growled finally. Ichabod expelled a sigh of relief though with one eyebrow raised. That still didn't explain the smell.

"Then what is that awful smell?" he asked before breaking into coughs, hand flying up to his mouth.

Although Ichabod wasn't notably a snitch, Frederick was wary. He unlocked the door regardless and emerged to face the scrawny, snow-faced sixteen-year old, cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.

"Oh, I didn't know…" Ichabod fumbled, thoroughly embarrassed for jumping to rash conclusions and assuming the worst. Frederick gave a small, humorless smirk before exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose.

The chocolate-brown haired boy took the cigarette between his ring finger and forefinger once more and took a few steps past Ichabod, hopping onto the counter space in-between the deep-set stone sinks.

"So…why 'av _yeh_ come?" the older boy inquired curiously, glancing over at him. Ichabod pursed his lips slightly in thought. Why _had_ he come here? He certainly wasn't here to relieve himself. He knew it was because Frederick had left Algebra class in a panicked haste that only he had felt concerned about, or had even _noticed? _But…that was a truth that would be all too awkward to tell.

"Yes well…I had come to…relieve myself, of course…" he fibbed lamely, turning his head slightly to look back at one of the stalls, edging towards it. Frederick studied his scrawny, nervous frame skeptically.

"Right. You 'xpect me t'believe tha'…" he smirked, bringing the cigarette back to his lips and taking one last deep inhale before tilting his head back, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke above them.

"Mmm…'fore y'go in there, do me a favor and flush this down wit' th' waste" Frederick said, holding out the cigarette butt to him. Ichabod grimaced faintly as he hesitantly accepted the butt, holding it with two fingers as if it were diseased.

" …Alright…" he uttered before closing the door of the stall behind him, locking it before dropping his uniform trousers and easing down. He rearranged his grip of the cigarette, smoke floating upward from the lit end. The grip was more comfortable now, but still awkward. He furrowed his brows slightly, examining it as he sat. It didn't look like just any regular cigarette…

"Ichabod! Flush th' toilet, th' professor is 'ere!" Frederick suddenly exclaimed hurriedly.

With a panicked gasp, the pale-faced boy jumped up and hurled the cigarette into the toilet as if it were scorching his fingers. He then promptly flushed the toilet, hastily pulling up his trousers.

"Sir, I can explain!" Ichabod stammered as he exited the stall, wide-eyed. But all that met him was a smirking Frederick, looking as though he were ready to laugh.

"Oh, y'should 'av seen th' look on yer face!" he exclaimed, chuckling light-heartedly at his joke. The younger boy frowned, clearly unimpressed with the other boy's antics.

"Oh! That was _not_ humorous a bit!" he shot back defensively, though expelling a sigh of relief. He was grateful that a small, harmless prank was all that had been.

A strange silence passed between them, Frederick still smirking at the younger teen's expense.

"So…aren't you goin back t'class now? Yeh wouldn' wan' t'miss all those interestin' equations" Frederick broke the silence with sarcasm, hopping back onto the counter, tempted to light another cigarette. Though it was probably likely that the advanced mathematics student before him took pride in his hard work and enjoyed it more than he did.

"…No…"

A beat.

"Awrigh.' Y'can rebel an' wreak havoc wit' me then" Abberline joked, not knowing what else to say.

Ichabod watched Frederick for a moment before walking closer over to him and climbing onto the wide counter next to him, exhaling a heavy sigh. "Anything but return to algebra. Soon following it will be football during my physical education class…" he said exasperatedly.

"Physical education's aw'righ'…"

"…"

"Why's football so difficult for yeh?"

"…"

Frederick turned his head, studying the non-responsive boy, waiting for an answer. Ichabod pressed his lips together, struggling to produce words. He did not ever confide his misfortune to anyone at all…this kind of confrontation was something he was so unaccustomed to.

"…I will admit I am not the most graceful figure of the sport. I am quite the laughing stock there," he explained, his glance wavering as he grew bashful.

"Oh…surely ye' can't be _that_ bad…"

"Oh, but I am, as it were…not that the mockery of my fellow students nor my professor would ever allow me to forget."

"Why don't ye' jus' skip it?" the older teen questioned, a light smile gracing his tanned face. Ichabod shook his head solemnly.

"I could not…"

"Aw, yes yeh can. Who's gonna give ye' a cow 'bout it? Yer parents? Get over yerself, Crane. You can't be afraid of ev'ryun."

Silence…awkward, excruciating silence.

"M-my parents are…gone, Abberline…" Ichabod choked. He stared down at his scarred palms, ashamed and remorseful as he pressed them together.

Frederick furrowed his brows, gaping slightly at his act of carelessness. _Shit. _

"God, I didn'…"

"It's fine" Ichabod interrupted firmly, his manner frigid and shoulders noticeably tense. Another painful silence exchanged between the two boys. Frederick could no longer withstand his temptation as he began to rummage through his blazer and pants pockets, in search of a cigarette.

Ichabod sat next to him, head low, lost in his thoughts of his deceased mother. She had been so beautiful, so kind, so undeserving of that tyrant's wrath…

"Crane, ye' aw'righ'?…Of course yer not…" Frederick answered his lame question as he inched closer to the younger boy. He was was relieved to find his last one, popping it quickly in his mouth and striking a match. Ichabod did not move, his dark bangs hanging in his downcast eyes.

The cigarette dangled between Abberline's lips as he suddenly began to adjust Ichabod's tie without a word of warning.

''S way too tigh'…how can ye breathe?" Frederick mumbled, though with a soft twinkle in his dark eyes. The younger boy raised his head, startled eyes watching the concentration on Abberline's face. He had to admit, he did feel better now that his tie was loosened…he hadn't even realized how tight it had been before.

Frederick took the cigarette from his lips, eyes lifting to meet Ichabod's. Many moments of silence had passed previously, but none so intense as this. They froze in place, unable to break the hypnotic stare from eachother.

"Frederick…" breathed Ichabod.

Said person quickly withdrew, shoving the cigarette back in his mouth as he awkwardly turned away. Ichabod's gaze fell back to the marble floor as he was finding he was somehow unable to breathe properly.

''bout tha'…ye should come with me," Abberline stated, not said.

"…I beg pardon?"

"Follow."

* * *

"I absolutely can not condone myself for doing this."

The sixteen-year old walked swiftly to keep up with the pace of the eighteen-year old leading him, fiddling with the cuff of his blazer nervously as he did.

"Crane, don' get yer knickers in a twist! If yeh get in trouble, I'll say it was my fault…"

"Abberline, _listen_ to me! You disobey a strict regulation in the code of rules far too often, we deliberately disregarded attending one and a half classes, descended from a fourth-story window, damaged the stone statue of the headmaster_ and_ scaled the wall. If we're discovered, we will face immediate suspension and possibly become expelled!" Ichabod rambled in a bursting panic, arms moving in exaggerated movements as he spoke hurriedly.

Frederick did not reply, pretending he hadn't heard him. The younger student gave a defeated sigh and changed the subject.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Anywhere yeh want…trus' me, you'll feel a hell o' a lot better after takin' some time off" the chocolate-brown haired boy responded, a faint smile playing his lips.

Suddenly, loud distant shouts disturbed the boys' conversation. They were belonging to a male, and they sounded angry and brutal. Frederick whipped around and lo' and behold, spotted the headmaster bellowing and running quickly in their very direction.

"Shit! 'es gone _mad_! Run!" the older student exclaimed, grabbing Ichabod's wrist. The rebellious teen broke into a fast sprint, dragging a clumsy Ichabod behind him.

"Miscreeeant! Hoooligans!" came the enraged cries of the headmaster as he drew nearer.

A wide smirk spread across Fred's face, hand still tightly gripping Ichabod's wrist as they ran together. Ichabod was filled with terror and bewilderment, but as he noticed Abberline's smile, he couldn't help but crack a smile himself.

The boys hopped a series of obstacles in their path, including fences, crossed many random lawns belonging to shocked bystanders, and near got run over by a ginormous U-HAUL truck while recklessly J-walking (or running.)

Finally, they turned a corner down an alleyway but were unfortunately met with a dead end.

"I think we lost 'im" Frederick choked, hunched over his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Ichabod mimicked his position, hoping his classmate was correct, for both their sakes.

"I'm afraid you're _sorely _mistaken, Abberline" said a dangerously low voice. Both teens turned to see the headmaster appear before them.

"Crane? What is _your _business here? I can't imagine why you'd dare associate yourself with such a misbehaved, arrogant goon!" he spat venomously as he advanced on them.

"Wif all due respect Sir, I think you should-"

"Don't you _dare _tell me what I should do! What right do you have?! While you scavenge about like an apathetic low-life! Just wait till your father hears about this!"

Frustrated beyond the point of self-control, Frederick's jaw clenched unconsciously, dark eyes burning intensely.

"Oh, fack yeh!" he spat sharply. "Leave 'im outta this!"

"I beg pardon?! You will be severely punished-"

"Feck yer punishments! I don't care what yeh do t'me, nor will my father!" he exclaimed angrily, though one-hundred percent honest.

The headmaster was shocked speechless, wide-eyed stare wavering between both boys. Frederick glared back steadily and defiantly as he reached for Ichabod's fingers, brushing them gently before completely wrapping his hand around them.

Ichabod gasped, startled and bashful, hesitant to respond. This act further enraged the headmaster, his beady eyes now looking as though they'd pop from their sockets at any moment.

"What's this?! Blatant HOMOSEXUALITY?!" he roared in disbelief.

Ichabod could hardly breathe as he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He was just about to keel over, unconscious, when Frederick gave a lopsided smirk and verbally confirmed it.

"Oh, _this_? Yeah. Yeh never noticed?" he shot back tauntingly.

"And YOU! You approve of this savage insanity?! This work of satan himself?!" bellowed the lunatic man of high authority as he turned his attention to the younger student.

Ichabod's upper lip flinched involuntarily as he gulped visibly. After a short moment of silence, he could feel Frederick's worried gaze trained on him.

"…Yes I do, Sir. Without doubt" he finally uttered, nodding curtly.

A wide, triumphant grin spread across Frederick's tanned face and he squeezed Ichabod's hand, who in turn, blushed lightly.

If the headmaster hadn't looked angry enough before, he was absolutely livid now.

"The both of you…are hereby suspended for two weeks! If I catch either one of you attempting to pull such acts of delinquency again, you will face immediate expulsion from the school!" he exclaimed, voice shaking with anger. He then abruptly turned on his heel, storming off.

The pair stood in shocked silence, breathing heavily, hands still clasped. Frederick was the first to speak.

"Ichabod, I'm sorry! This went much farther than I had wanted!" he fumbled, immediate guilt rushing over him.

But to his utmost pleasant surprise, Ichabod no longer looked startled or upset. He wore a gentle smile, still blushing slightly as he raised his head to look Frederick in the eyes.

"Don't be. One wouldn't normally feel remorse for giving someone else a most exhilarating adventure…" he said softly, dark eyes shining with excitement.

Frederick then drew the younger boy in before wrapping his arms around him in a tight, warm embrace. Ichabod closed his eyes lightly, enjoying the feeling of the older boy's touch.

"Damn."

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**Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed that! So you understand the context, this chapter like all the others is AU, or Alternate Universe. In this scenario, Ichabod's father is still alive but he escaped from home and lives alone as an orphan. I also kept Frederick's parents alive for this story. They attended a fictional high-class prestigious school in London. In this chapter, they knew of eachother for a year previously and were familiar with eachother currently.**

**Also, note since this is London, football = the equivalent to soccer for Americans and Canadians.**

**Thank you for reading, please leave a review, I really appreciate them**


	3. Haze of Self Destruction

**All right I'm back with the second chapter. As you know, there is a different scenario every time... this time, I kept their ages and time periods roughly the same. **

**This was inspired by my sudden urges to return back to self harm...I was able to stop myself through writing this dreadfully depressing piece. You've been warned. **

**Enjoy it.  
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There it was. The spiral – a never-ending, twisting spiral headed nowhere but downward. He. He was riding that spiral. Pathetic and low was a man like he. Progressive and desperate was the steep slope to the end of hope. He had left comfort a long time ago, as far back as his memory would allow.

Nothing could save him now.

No, not as he let himself just _go_.

The drugs had taken their stronghold; the shit he was in was deep. Motionless…everything…was everything so far gone? Yet he felt his entire life was flashing before his very eyes. How could this be? He was lying right here in his bathtub, wasn't he?! _Shit, why won' it go 'way…_

But as much as he pleaded for the dreadful visions to relieve him of the heaviness of past, relieve him of his fucking madness, he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. It was because he didn't want it to stop. Drown in the haze and fuck the world goodbye.

It was all he had left. Victoria was gone, the baby vanishing with her. All his hopes of fatherhood, of marriage, of happiness and romance – shattered instantly, just like that. As if somebody had just brushed a single domino in an entire arrangement – so carefully built, so devastatingly perfect but yet so easy to destroy.

All it took to create this mass wreckage was one fallen domino…and all the others fall…one by one, until there is absolutely nothing left to stand.

And there, there it was. Sitting there, shimmering by the threads of light that accented it so nicely. It was so entrancing, so _alluring_ as the man reached for it – and so close to him too! How convenient can you get?!

He ran his fingers across the smooth, cold metal of the lister knife, in love with how beautiful it felt. And it got even better as he wrapped those fingers around it, lifting it and feeling its weight. It felt perfect, almost as if it was _supposed _to be in his hand.

_God, GOD!! Satisfy this urge! Tame this feckin disgusting beast! No un's gonna give a shit anyway!_

And as the man glanced admiringly at the lister knife, he brought it to his tanned skin. The sharp edge felt vague against the surface. He could not wait any longer. With great ease, the blade dug deep into the skin, carving misery and sick desperation into the man's wrist. Oh, what blood, for such a tiny hole…

It wasn't enough.

Again, the man dragged the knife deep into the sensitive flesh, the wound growing angrier. A stream of crimson blood trickled down his arm and plunged into the bathwater, tainting it red. Yes…that felt good…

So much better.

The door opened calmly and slowly, an unsuspecting and unknowing man entering inside to discover…

"Frederick?…Frederick, what are you-"

It didn't take too long. His startled eyes sighted the wreckage, the devastating mess of absinthe, opium, poison and blood.

He could scarcely breathe as he sprung to the tub, because even his fastest didn't feel fast enough. His arms supported the older man in a flash, lifting him to an upright position and elevating his bloodied arm. He saw how deep the slash was, and realized the severity and emergency in the situation…

_No, no, no, no, no…._

"Frederick!! Can you hear me?!" he exclaimed in a panic, shaking the unconscious man's shoulders. He sat there for what felt like eternity attempting to wake the Inspector, bring him back to life, but it was to no avail.

Hot, burning tears pricked Ichabod's eyes, threatening to fall.

"FREDERICK! PLEASE!" he shrilled desperately, just as the tears began to stream down his cheeks.

A blink, a beat. _Why…why 'n earth 's Crane cryin' s'hard?_

"Ichabod…" he choked, struggling to reopen his eyes. Ichabod's heart jumped up into his throat as he released a startled whimper that sounded both upset and relieved.

"Frederick! Why would you _do_ such a thing?!" he wailed, clutching the weak man close to him.

"Ichabod…Ichabod…"

"Yes, love, I'm here…" the constable whispered into his rich-brown hair.

"Ichabod…"

"All will be well soon, I promise!"

All Frederick could do was moan Ichabod's name in sorrow until his fatigue and weakness took over his fragile body and he surrendered to unconsciousness.

The constable ripped the cravat from his neck and feverishly tied it as tight as he could around Fred's wounds. A tourniquet as protection that would suffice for now. The constable carefully lifted the Inspector from the tub, his chiseled body glistening beautifully. Water dripped a trail onto the flood as Ichabod carried him and finally laid him down on a nearby couch to rest. Not far from the tub had been a pile of clothes and a towel, and the constable brought those things over and tenderly began to dry Abberline's naked torso and arms, everything down to his feet.

After that he gingerly redressed the tanned man, and removed his own coat to cover him warmly with it. Ichabod sniffed, wiping at his cheeks and damp eyes with a handkerchief.

He was safe…for now…

* * *

The sunlight was harsh and merciless as it beat down against the eyelids of the man in slumber…a man in slumber until now.

Frederick winced before slowly opening his dark eyes. He shifted slightly, and instantly groaned as sharp pain coursed up his left arm. He raised his arm carefully and noticed a blood-soaked cloth tied tightly around his wrist. _Oh, God…what the feck happened to me…_

Abberline near began to cry as the memories of the previous night flooded back to him.

'_s all my fault…_

There was only one thing the Inspector wanted to do, and it was see Ichabod Crane.

He willed himself to rise, a coat shrugging down as he did, which he assumed to belong to Crane. He got to his feet slowly and gingerly before dragging his feet towards the door, to escape the terrible mess of a bathroom he would so loathe to look at any longer.

"Ichabod?"

And as he went through the door, there he was. There he was, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His eyes were closed, his head hanging loosely. Fred watched him in awe as he realized that he must have stayed overnight, and probably hadn't even slept much. Abberline dropped to his knees and crawled over to him, bandaged arm reaching out to softly shake him awake.

The constable exhaled a pained sigh as he was roused, it seems he had thrown out his neck. He felt a warm touch, quiet breathing of another…

"Frederick?" he asked through squinted eyes.

Frederick saw that his eyes were red and puffy, his face even more drained of color then usual, if that was even possible. This disheartened him to the point of unbearable guilt, and he could not speak as he leaned his forehead against Ichabod's and began to weep.

"'m so sorry…'m so sorry…"

In turn, the constable slowly coiled his arms around his waist and closed his eyes, relieved that his love was alive, that he was right here in front of him.

The younger man let Frederick cry; let him release all his pent up pain and frustration and guilt until he had drained nearly all his remaining energy. After a while, Frederick repositioned himself so his head rested safely and comfortably in Ichabod's lap as he lay.

"…I'm a fool…" the Inspecotr said, a small smile twisting his lips.

The constable caressed the man's rich-brown hair, fingers trickling down to his temple and stroking his cheek.

"No…not just _a_ fool. _My_ fool" he replied gently, warmly smiling down on him.

"Fortunately, you have a sure way to keep me here. And here is where I will always remain."

"T'save a wreck like me? Yer wastin' yer time…" Abberline muttered darkly.

Ichabod shook his head.

"Never, Frederick. You must believe me…I am here for _you_…"

No other words were spoken, no further words needed to be spoken. Frederick brought Ichabod's hand to his lips and kissed it. He held it close to his heart as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Sanctuary at last.

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**I hope you guys liked it. Please review, constructive criticism and comments are important to me cause I want to know if I'm doing this shit right, lol.**


	4. This Here And Now With You

**Author's Note: Well, I'm SO sorry for this long wait. This here is a chapter inspired by my day today! I went to the park and acted like a kid again and it was strangely liberating. So here, this starts in the 1980s and Ichabod is 12, Fred is 14.** **It ends with them as grown men in their thirties in the present day. I listened to the The Cure a lot while writing this chapter, especially the song it's titled after "This. Here And Now. With You" as well as "Underneath The Stars." Enjoy it!**

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**Round and round and round they spun…where they'd stop…or where they'd go…it didn't matter. The younger boy's grip on the handles tightened, the sky stretched above him a brilliant whirl of blue and soft white. He could feel the older boy next to him, clinging tightly just the same. Time had seemed to stop and any pressures or stress of teenage hood had evaporated much quicker than they anticipated. They had forgotten they were young teens, they felt as young and fresh and as a child, so terribly indestructible and pure. What was this feeling? What was this sensation they swam in, were enveloped in together? And the laughter that escaped their lips as their ride came to its end and they stumbled to their feet, nearly overcome by dizziness as they dragged their unsteady feet through the sand.

"Oh, that was _fast_!" a twelve-year old Ichabod cried. A fourteen-year old Frederick nodded in agreement, the wide smile on his face matching Ichabod's. "Yeh, now 'ts time fo' th' swings!" he exclaimed, stumbling slightly as he shoving the darker-haired boy in the direction of the swing set.

"No, please, Frederick! I've never ridden on a swing set before!" protested the reluctant Ichabod, turning and writhing in the older boy's grip. The struggling didn't cease, even as Frederick forced him to sit down on the actual rubber. "I promise it'll be fun. 'ere, 'll ev'n push yeh" reassured the chocolate-brown haired boy. Ichabod's lips pouted and his brows furrowed nervously, but he eventually nodded curtly and agreed. Fred gave him a lop-sided smirk and dragged the swing back a little by the chains and released him. Ichabod, whose arms had been crossed across his chest before, quickly snapped to hold on to the chains as soon as he was let go.

The swing was slow and gradual in the beginning, but it wasn't long before Frederick worked up a steady pace and Ichabod was beginning to climb up rather high. "Woah, woah!" he exclaimed nervously, wide eyes glued to the sandy floor beneath him. His stomach felt like jelly, rolling and fumbling around every time he ascended far from the ground. The surreal feeling definitely took some time to get used to, as he'd never actually been so high and far from the ground before.

" 'ere comes th' big 'un!" warned Frederick just as he braced himself for Ichabod, who was quickly swinging back to him. Ichabod squinted his eyes tightly shut as he felt the older boy's strong hands against his backside, propelling him higher up in the air than ever before. "OPEN YER EYES! An' lean back!" cried the knowing Frederick. Although he was afraid, Ichabod willed his large, dark eyes open. He felt the wind rushing all around him, whipping in his feathery hair as he swiftly cut through the air and bathed in the golden glow of a burning sun. An exhilarated cry of joy escaped his lips as he leant back in the rubber seat, still gripping the chains. He was flying, soaring, and his entire surroundings were topsy-turvy upside down! Uncontained by limitations set by his controlling father, and absolutely _free._ Fred backed up slightly and watched his dearest friend, his eyes twinkling in wonderment.

Ichabod was disappointed when the joyride reached its end, and the incredible sensation along with it. His legs felt light and weightless as he eased back onto the sandy ground, making his way back over to Frederick. "See, told yeh," the older boy said gently, patting Crane's shoulder. "Oh, I thank you so very much! You _were_ right all along!" gushed the younger boy. Frederick chuckled, entertained by the boy's enthusiasm.

"Yeh, yeh, I know…le's go…on th' see saw?" The boys glanced across the playground and spotted a large, bright red see saw right smack dab in the middle of it all.

"…All right…" replied Ichabod, and together they headed for it. They sat on the opposite ends and held onto the handles conveniently in front of them. Like always, the commencement to good fun started calmly and slowly enough, but surely gained speed. They were calling and shouting to each other as they thrust themselves up and down, up and down over and over again. The boys cried out in pain but then erupted into ridiculous laughter whenever they accidentally hit the sandy ground roughly and rebounded off sharply from it. The sun was beginning to set, and the boys knew they'd need to head off to their homes soon enough, so they ceased the fun sea saw ride and journeyed over to a hill not far from the park. The green grass was lush and soft as they sprawled out upon it, each expelling a sigh as they looked out on the gorgeous setting sun, tainting the once blue sky with yellow, red and even purple.

"Oh, I don't ever want to go home! …This day has been the best ever, in my life so far," Ichabod admitted honestly, glancing over at Frederick. Frederick gave him a lop-sided smirk, his dark eyes burning into Ichabod's. "Same 'ere, Ichabod…Same 'ere…" he uttered in a voice barely above a whisper as his face suddenly drew closer. And, just like a dream, their lips connected softly and fleetingly and their eyes fluttered closed, only for a magic moment. It was their first kiss. Both boys pulled back, an expression of genuine surprise on both their faces, their eyes slightly wide.

"…Frederick…" Ichabod breathed, his body trembling slightly and his cheeks flushing. Frederick noticed this, and felt his own butterflies. The playful grin returned to his tanned face and he winked boldly at the younger boy. "…Race yeh!" he cried, leaping up from his spot and sprinting down the hill. Ichabod was still stunned beyond belief as he sprang up after him, exclaiming that it just _wasn't_ fair! The younger boy scrambled after Frederick, who was grinning widely as he stole a good lead ahead of him.

* * *

Two grown men walked together, hands entwined securely as they revisited the very park they had played together in as children and even teenagers.

"Oh, geez…I 'member tha' swing! Yeh were SO terrified o' tha' thin'!" exclaimed Inspector Abberline as he gestured with his free hand to the swing set ahead of them. The constable pursed his lips disapprovingly. "I was _not_ terrified, although I will admit I felt nervous! And rightly _so_!" the younger man shot back.

Frederick rolled his eyes but chuckled softly, squeezing Ichabod's hand. "C'mon now, no need t' defend yo'self…good ol' times, eh?"

"…Yes. I miss them so," sighed the up-tight Crane.

"Man, i' looks so different in th' dark…an' aw these years lateh…" Abberline commented. The night was young, the many shimmering stars littering the darkening sky. The glow of the moon illuminated the play structures, old and faded from many years of use, but still precious to them.

They climbed their way up to the hill and that was where the stopped, outstretching on the grassy blanket underneath the stars. "Do yeh 'member…this was where we 'ad our first kiss…" Frederick mused quietly, feeling awfully cheesy for recalling such a cliché event. Ichabod nodded and glanced over at him with a soft smile. "How could I forget?"

Their lips came together, much more confidently this time, but with the same sort of magic, mesmerizing feel as their very first time. It had been a while since either of them felt that way, and it made them feel as if they were young boys again. The kiss quickly deepened, and Ichabod moaned lustfully into the older man's mouth. Frederick gently rolled him back so that the Constable lay comfortably flat on his back. The Inspector climbed on top and ran fingers through Ichabod's soft hair as his lips moved to the sensitive flesh of the younger man's neck.

"Oh, Frederick, take me…" groaned Ichabod. "No un's 'round…" Frederick whispered back into his ear, beginning to unbutton Ichabod's shirt excitedly.

"God, I adore yeh…you're s' beautiful, Ichabod…" he said. Ichabod closed his eyes and smiled, arms draped around the older man as he was kissed. What an adventure they had shared, and would share, for the rest of their lives.

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	5. I Breathe In, I Breathe Out

**Hello! So sorry that I haven't been updating very regularly. If you noticed, I changed the title of my overall story...I wanted something a little more interesting than "The Compilation" :P**

**The time frame for this chapter is basically Frederick's, a little after the actual Ripper Case (so like, 1889? 1890?) and in From Hell I'm not sure Frederick lived in a house, but for this chapter he does LOL.**

**This chapter's a sharp contrast from the last one, a bit of a downer actually. I wanted a perfect title for it, and so I found the lyrics to this song "I Breathe In, I Breathe Out" and I loved the title and thought it was perfect for my idea. **

**Thanks, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS USED HERE. FROM HELL AND IT'S SCREEN STORY ARE THE PROPERTY OF TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX. SLEEPY HOLLOW AND IT'S SCREEN STORY ARE THE PROPERTY OF PARAMOUNT PICTURES. NONE OF THE CHARACTERS ARE MY OWN AND I USE THEM ONLY FOR NON-PROFIT FICTION.**

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The unfamiliar silence draped over the room like a dark, foreboding storm cloud, and Ichabod could feel a painful tension in his chest as he folded his clothes and placed them neatly in his suitcase. The warm London evening contrasted the unease in the house, as the beautiful golden sun was just beginning to set. He moved deathly slow, carefully and quietly. When he had finished, he closed the suitcase, which sat on the bed, and paused. The constable looked over at their bedside table, only a few scattered papers littered the top and wax from a lit candle dripped to smatter them. His hesitant fingers gripped the knob of the drawer in the small unit, and as he pulled it open he knew exactly what he would find.

Gingerly, he removed the spinning disk, the image of a cage facing up as he placed it in the pocket of his coat. Ichabod expelled a low sigh, knowing that the unfortunate time had come to express the truth to his partner. His partner, his friend, his enemy and his lover combined together into one being. Oh God, how could it have come to this?

Suitcase in hand, Ichabod slowly descended the stairs. The Inspector was not far; he sat in a comfortable auburn Bordeaux chair, exhaling a puff of smoke from between his lips. His dog slept on the floor at his feet.

Although Crane hadn't known it, Frederick could sense the increasing discomfort and strain of their relationship from a mile away. He had been solemnly awaiting this confrontation; he knew gravely it was one that did not call for apprehension.

"Frederick…I am leaving" uttered a firm Ichabod. Nothing moved except for the wisps of side stream smoke rising from the end of the cigarette held between Frederick's fingers, and the soft rise and fall of the little dog's chest. Ichabod waited, but he was not sure what for anymore. The Inspector had chosen not to even turn his head to acknowledge him, his eyes staring out into seemingly nothing. The constable gulped modestly and pressed his lips tightly together before gathering further words.

"Why have you not spoken?" he questioned impatiently. Frederick took a long drag and waited a long beat.

"Wot d'ye want me ter say?" He didn't look at the constable when he spoke. Ichabod gave a quiet discouraged sigh, unimpressed with Fred's response.

"There is nothing I particularly expected you to say to me. I only hoped you would have been perspicacious. You should know that we couldn't go on like this." More uncomfortable silence. Finally, after a few more agonizingly quiet moments, Frederick shifted slightly, his eyebrows raised as he regarded the moon-skinned Crane.

"Aw'righ', leave. I won' stop yeh" he mumbled. Ichabod's own eyebrows did not move, his expression one of stern one of forced placidness as the two men locked glances, if only for a short moment.

"…I've gathered all my things," he began as his gaze swiftly fell to the floor. Frederick made no reply other than a curt nod.

"Goodbye, Frederick Abberline…" he said finally, solemn and formal as he paused for an excruciating moment, glancing at him. Frederick was not looking at him, still facing straight ahead, motionless. The sight of him looking so emotionless and apathetic killed Ichabod, but he turned on his heel and walking out the door, boarding the next boat to New York, out of the Inspector's life, forever.

Although Frederick had feigned apathy, he never left that damn chair for the rest of the night. The Inspector sat there smoking cigarette after cigarette, medicating himself as much as possible with absinthe, the green fairy. God, how could he have been so stupid to let this happen? How could he have just sat there as the love of his life walked away? He hadn't even taken a last glance at the man. He hadn't even said good-bye…but he just couldn't, for some inexplicable reason.

After everything they had gone through, after everything it took to get to that amazing high point in their relationship where they had somehow gotten over their mountainous differences and felt so comfortable with the other, so desperately in love…and now that Ichabod had been gone for a mere six hours, Frederick could already feel himself rotting away. There was no way he'd be able to live out his life like a ghost, having known he let the one he truly loved slip right through his fingers.

But…what was there to do now but wait? And when dawn finally broke after a long, grueling night, Frederick awoke in that same chair, after scarce in and out moments of sleep.

Suddenly, the door burst open, but the Inspector was honestly far too deep into his own medicating to react or realize what was going on.

"Inspector, get up! C'mon now!" boomed Sergeant Peter Godley as he stormed over towards the seated man. "Look at yeh, complete mess! Don' tell me this is all coz Crane went 'ome!" he exclaimed, but his eyes were sympathetic, his tone less harsh as he noticed just how beaten and broken Abberline looked. Godley didn't need an answer; he knew full well what had happened.

"God, Abberline…there's plenty o' fish in th' sea" Godley mumbled, in disbelief but also with concern. Frederick didn't look at him, but he did finally speak.

"…If I can' 'ave _him_ 'ere wif me…I won' settle fer anyone else" Abberline replied simply, yet his voice was eerily emotionless and placid.

The sergeant, who knew Frederick a little _too_ well, heaved a concerned sigh. "These violent delights have violent ends," he said quietly, quoting Shakespeare more to himself than to his partner.

Without another word, Godley left, and Frederick Abberline knew he had two options. Chase or die.

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**This is the first part, and the second part to this chapter will be uploaded next time! Thanks for reading, please remember to review :D (If you be good to me, I be good to you baby XD)  
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	6. I Breathe In, I Breathe Out Part 2

**Hello...to whoever is reading. It seems I only have two readers, or three, perhaps. Well, I wrote this little something a while back just cause, not thinking I'd ever really use it. Now I'm happy to say I've found an occasion. I'm having muse struggles once again and stress due to exams...but hopefully all this is resolved after June 18th, being the last day of exams for me. I apologize...especially to the one or two of you who actually read this, just read it again and hold tight. This is basically the same time period as the first part to I Breathe In, I Breathe Out. Ichabod went home and very soon afterward, the wedding had started. In the end of my last chapter, Frederick was faced with the heavy decision...chase the dragon and die, or chase after Ichabod...neither seemed fruitful, but here, we see what his final decision is. Enjoy.**

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The smoke escaped slowly from between the man's lips after a deep inhale, eyebrows furrowed as he pondered over his next move. It was official now. Crane had fumbled through his vows and married his fiancé, Katrina Van Tassel, mere hours ago. Now Frederick stood idly, lingering alone as the outdoor reception carried on, the guests laughing and chatting amongst themselves. The Inspector hadn't even spoken to Ichabod in all the frantic rush, nor was formally introduced to Katrina. People were beginning to leave as the night grew late, embracing each other and exchanging goodbyes.

"Good night, Inspector. It has been a pleasure meeting you," said one of the guests to him, a kind smile on his aging face. Frederick gave a small, polite smile. "A good nigh' t'yeh too" he said, nodding to the elderly man.

The Inspector took one last full drag on his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, crushing it with his foot. He knew he _should_ say something to the Constable before he left himself, at least a "congratulations" and what not.

"Frederick?" a voice called softly from behind him. Said man froze but only for a moment, instantly recognizing the male's voice. Abberline turned around to face the Constable, a gentle smile upon his tanned face.

"Hello, Constable" he greeted, taking slow steps closer to the fair-skinned man. Ichabod returned the smile; relieved to be alone in the presence of someone he was comfortable with. The entire ordeal had been highly stressful and busy, and he was honestly glad that most of the guests were either in the process of leaving or had already gone to their homes. They had worked closely together on cases, and along the way developed a close friendship…and a secret, inexplicable desire for each other…Unfortunately, a rather abrupt break-up had ensued, even after all they had been through together. It had just been time for this hectic run to come to its end, really...though not as unnecesarily as it had. There had been moments where Ichabod would have done anything to travel back in time and make up for what had happened.

"Congratulations…" Frederick said quietly, and though conflicted, he really meant it. There was about a foot's distance between the two men, neither about to back away. " 'ow does i' feel t'be a married man?"

"It feels…certainly new, yes." Ichabod fumbled, smiling lightly as he nervously fiddled with the cuff of his dress shirt. His eyes fell to the cuff as he did for a moment before they re-met the Inspector's again. The distance had reduced to a mere few inches.

"Ah, but o' course" Frederick murmured, his smirk widening. Without a further thought, the Inspector raised his hand and gently pushed back a few wavy strands of the newly wedded man's raven black hair. "I though' you were gonna introduce me t'the lucky woman?" the Londoner questioned in a teasing tone.

"Katrina is no longer present…" Crane stated simply, hoping the guilt he was feeling at this moment wasn't visible on his face. Even when he had been saying his vows to the dear Katrina, there had been another man momentarily crossed his mind...Lord. A rush of relief washed over Fred as his fingers dripped down Ichabod's pale cheek. Ichabod closed his eyes, exhaling a slow, deep sigh as he felt the warmth of the older man – he hadn't noticed until now that he had been holding his breath all day. Frederick had the sudden urge to devour him right there, just to push him up against one of the great, looming trees in the middle of the woods and make sweet love to him into the wee hours of night.

The two men stood still together for quite some time: bodies close, foreheads resting against each others as Fred's hand rested upon the sighing man's face. They were both in an odd and rare state of relaxation, peace even. Frederick was the first to move, and he didn't have to move much, as their lips had been lingering very closely already. Ichabod happily accepted, returning the kiss warmly. It was a familiar feeling, an exhilarating feeling to move his lips slowly in unison with Frederick's.

His kiss was passionate and strong, bested by no other, not even Katrina. Ichabod could feel the overwhelming desire just oozing from the Inspector, and as they reluctantly broke away and reopened their eyes, he could see Fred's eyes twinkling with love. Love for _him._ "Mmmm" he moaned quietly, just about ready to swoon.

"God…Ichabod…I miss you aw'ready…" Frederick breathed, cupping his fair-skinned face in both hands, savoring him and their moment, for he knew it wouldn't last much longer. This was the very last kiss they'd share, and death was knocking on the Inspector's door. This would suffice as their final goodbye.

"Frederick…I love you" Ichabod finally said, words he had been wanting to say but struggling to express for so long. Guilt twinged at the Constable's heart strings. It was Katrina he should be confessing his utmost love to, not the Inspector. Frederick grinned widely, starry-eyed. He pressed his lips to his forehead a last time before backing away reluctantly. He knew it was time for Ichabod to be with the one he was truly meant for.

As the distance between them grew again, Frederick's hands slowly slipped from Ichabod's scarred ones. "Good nigh', Ichabod…I know you'll be an amazin' father."

Ichabod smiled gently as Frederick took a last good look at him before turning his back. The constable could only watch, feeling the sting of guilt and regret as his once lover walked away.

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**Review appreciated 3 Thanks**


	7. Memoir

**Long time no update, eh? I apologize to anyone waiting. I've been dealing with A LOT lately...and recently I've been battling with a lot of seperate issues, one being my flucuating muse. Please bear with me. Thank you so much to all those who read. This is a little something different...a poem written from Ichabod's point of view. Enjoy.  
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Upon a fortnight when I was eight and you were ten,

We vowed to remain companions.

Champions of youth

Perched upon a throne of naivety

Between bright day and majestic night

The widest summer heat and the modest winter snow

You served my insight

Guided me upon the stars

I revered you more than I revealed

Sense then fresh sensibility bore true significance

Simply bewitched, my heart held in your hands

Nevertheless no soul would ever understand

Adolescence concluded and adulthood begun

The joys of freedom shrank in reflection of a setting sun

I realized the burdens would only disintegrate

Time suspended as a pocket watch, blaring in our eardrums

Weary we grow

Aging languidly

Restrained by the clutches of a dragon, you fall.

I search for the boy I once knew

Pure of heart, untainted by the plagues of this world

Soft chocolate hair that tumbled in tousles

Framing the portrait of a fair face

He by the title of Frederick Abberline

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**PLEASE REVIEW. Don't just read a chapter I worked hard on and leave! Seriously! Thanks a lot 3**


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